


Where The Fuck Is Taco Bell?

by zams



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-27
Updated: 2011-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zams/pseuds/zams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Apparently, Tommy really likes Taco Bell when he's drunk.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Fuck Is Taco Bell?

**

"Oh, baby," Adam says, petting Tommy's hair (Tommy's sure it's a tangled mess and sticky with hairspray, but he can't bring himself to care). "Brad is pissed off at you."

Tommy groans and tries to burrow more into Adam's side, seeking blessed darkness and soothing warmth. Fuck, his head. He hasn't been this hung-over since Sutan dressed him up in drag and took him out bar hopping (and Tommy doesn't care what Sutan says - he _knows_ Sutan still has the video of him stripping to Kesha on a bar and stuffing dollar bills down his pants; Sutan's clearly just waiting for the perfect time to blackmail Tommy with it).

"Hurts," he says, sounding sad and pitiful and pathetic all at once to try to earn some sympathy kisses from Adam.

"You'll live," Adam says - very meanly in Tommy's opinion - but he does kiss Tommy's head, and then gently moves it on to his stomach so he can massage Tommy’s temples. "The pills and water will help."

"I'm dying," Tommy says flatly, moaning dramatically.

Adam chuckles quietly, and Tommy grumbles a bit, but settles down, hoping to go back to sleep. But then Adam's earlier words finally filter through his hazy brain. "Why's Brad mad?"

Tommy feels the laughter Adam holds back, and suddenly, Tommy has a bad feeling.

It only gets worse when Adam says, "Don't remember, huh? Not that I'm surprised. I don't know if I've ever seen you so drunk.”

Great. What the fuck did he do? Probably something fucking embarrassing. Not that he can remember anything past ten o’clock or so.

“'You're lucky you're so pretty,' as Brad said,” Adam continues, “or you would have spent the night passed out on Isaac's basement floor, instead of Brad calling me to pick your ‘drunk non-ass up.’"

Tommy groans and curses Brad in his head. "Fuck, just tell me what I did."

"Apparently,” Adam says, and Tommy can tell he’s trying not to laugh, “you really wanted some Taco Bell last night."

Tommy groans again. Fuck. This isn't going to be good.

Adam’s amusement is obvious. "You went around asking everyone 'where the fuck is Taco Bell?', but no one knew. So then you tried to find it on your phone, but couldn't do it because you were so drunk. And _then_ you asked Twitter, which, wow. Bad decision."

Oh, fucking hell. Who the fuck knows how many replies he has after that? _Fuck_. He shouldn’t be allowed around alcohol. Or at least not around Brad and Sutan _and_ alcohol.

It’s going to be a nightmare dealing with that. Ugh.

But… Adam's fingers are gently combing through his hair, getting the tangles out, and it feels so good, it’s so relaxing, Tommy can't be bothered to care about fucking Twitter.

"Is that all?" he asks. Please, let that be all.

"No." Adam giggles, and Tommy knows he's screwed to hell. With his luck, of course that embarrassment isn’t all.

"Somewhere, you found a nerf gun, put it up to Brad's head, and demanded that he get you some Taco Bell, or you'd shoot him."

By the time Adam finishes speaking, he's shaking with laughter, and Tommy wants to _die_. The thought that he threatened to shoot Brad in the head with a fucking _nerf_ gun is mortifying, but it’s also hilarious in the oh-my-fucking-god-did-I-really- _do_ -that kind of way.

His pounding head isn't helping anything, either.

"Brad was _not_ amused by that," Adam says in between bursts of laughter. "Too bad I wasn’t there to see it. You're fucking up shit creek without a paddle, baby. I don't even want to know what he's going to do to you."

Tommy whimpers. He doesn't want to know either. Brad probably only let him off the hook last night so he could draw out the torture by making Tommy wait for it. "Can't you call him off? Or maybe protect me? Distract him?"

Adam’s laughter finally dies off. “Distract him how?” he asks, tugging gently on Tommy’s hair.

“I don’t know. Make-out with him or something?”

Adam snickers. “You want me, your boyfriend if you don’t remember, to make-out with Brad, my ex-boyfriend?”

“Yep,” Tommy says, a grin curving his lips at the thought despite everything. “As long as you tell Brad that it’s in exchange for not killing me. Oh, and that's only if I get to watch.”

Tommy knows Adam rolls his eyes at that, even if he doesn't see it. “Well, he probably won’t go for that since he’s fucking Sutan these days, but I’ll try.”

Fuck, Tommy forgot about that. Shit.

"Don't worry," Adam soothes when Tommy makes a distressed sound. "He won't hurt you." He pauses. "Well, not much."

“Asshole,” he mutters. "Fuck you. Keep going like that and you won't be getting my ass for months."

Adam’s fingers tighten briefly in his hair before they go back to the gentle stroking. "Oh, honey," he says, all condescending and patronizing, "like you could go months without my cock in your ass."

What a fucking smug bastard. Tommy can't believe this. If Tommy weren't in so much pain and Adam's hands didn't feel so _good_ on his head, Tommy'd do... well, something not nice. Maybe steal all Adam's eyeliner or something. Or delete all his Project Runway episodes from the DVR.

There’s no way Brad’s going to let this go. He’s going to do _something_ , and Tommy already knows it’s not going to end well for him. Why did it have to be Brad? Isaac would have laughed at Tommy’s threat and taken him to Taco Bell and everything would have been fine.

Tommy’s not usually one for self-pity, but right now, all he can do is moan and say, "Fuckin’ A."

"That about sums it up," Adam agrees, much too cheerfully considering the circumstances, and Tommy wonders if he's too old to run away to the circus. May be worth a shot. He’ll look into that right after a nap, hopefully when he doesn’t feel like there’s a marching band in his head and he’s not so pitiful.

“If I run away, will you go with me?” he asks. He knows he sounds needy, but fuck it. A life on the run wouldn’t be so bad with Adam there.

“Of course, baby,” Adam says, his fingers brushing across Tommy’s forehead and down his cheek to his neck. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

And fuck. That’s only like the sweetest declaration of love Tommy’s ever heard. Fucking Adam can always get him all emotional and sappy with just a few sweet words. He doesn't really mind, though, because it's _Adam_.

Tommy blinks quickly and swallows, chest feeling tight. “I’d follow you, too,” he whispers.

“I know, baby,” Adam says just as softly. Tommy can hear a smile in his voice. “Now go to sleep. I’ll try to do some damage control.”

“Okay.” He closes his eyes and sighs, fully relaxing against Adam. Sleep sounds really nice right now. “Love you.”

Adam's quiet response of, "Love you, too," makes Tommy smile despite the fact that he feels like shit and he may have to go on the lam in order to avoid Brad's retaliation if Adam can't deflect him. When he wakes up, everything will be better. Adam’ll _make_ everything all better. He always does because he's amazing. Tommy’s really lucky like that.

**

Inspired by two texts from Texts From Last Night.


End file.
